


Blind Spot

by JoannaC



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Good thing Carl is NOT in the house ;), M/M, Rick gets a scar, Rick/Shane/Lori if you squint, Violent undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21548134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoannaC/pseuds/JoannaC
Summary: It's Carl's birthday and strange things happen.
Relationships: Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Blind Spot

“Good thing we all could take a day out. Carl was so excited. He really missed you on last week’s baseball match though...” - Shane turns to Rick as they enter the cool living room.

“Shane, you know I had to…” Rick starts in monotone, but Shane cuts in, his tone as neutral as he can muster –“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know man…”

“Just…if they were mine…” the words leave Shane’s mouth before he’s aware he’s actually voicing them. Spring from the depths of himself, like a little monster allowed to play and demolish.

He watches Rick’s expression freeze for a second as he processes it, then warm blue of his eyes turn to glacier ice. 

“Yours…” Rick repeats, a mere whisper, laced with venom.

The relaxed atmosphere of the afternoon is lost without a trace and the air in the room is suddenly leaden with bad energy.

With this moment the cracks in their friendship deepen further, but from underneath something else resurfaces.

“ _You ungrateful bastard_ ” Shane thinks, “ _I could break your jaw, I could re-arrange that pretty boy face of yours_ ” the cord of thoughts unravels in his mind, out of control, and he observes it as if from distance, mildly surprised and somewhat amused.

Shane smiles.

Something about this pisses Rick off even more.

That grimace is setting on Rick’s lips (and Shane thinks these are pretty lips, too pretty for a guy). Shane knows that pout so well, has seen it so many times since they were kids.

But Rick’s not a boy anymore, and a heavy hand lands on Shane’s shoulder and pushes. “You leave now, Shane”.

“Don’t push me Rick” Shane says, almost casually, the gentle tone of his own voice a surprise to himself.

“Or what?” An unpleasant growl, low and defiant. Rick’s even closer now. His body tensing up, getting ready to attack/be attacked.

OR THIS! explodes in Shane’s mind. There’s a short circuit in his brain as he makes a move.

Pain shoots into Rick’s gums and eye sockets and for a moment he’s sure Shane head butted him, waits for the taste of blood, but then he registers there are lips on his, teeth gnawing painfully and tongue demanding the entrance. Mostly out of instinct he lets it in.

Rick’s lips are warm and dry, firmer than a woman’s and he tastes faintly of that over sweetened ice tea Lori makes.

Ricks fingers dig into Shane’s biceps and tighten somewhere between violence and lust. In response Shane’s palms land on Rick’s waist and tug. Their hips collide, grinding together, rocking. Unholy communion.

Their mouths slide together wetly, sloppily, tongues duel. After a while their cocks start to stiffen, rubbing alongside, trough the thin material of summer pants.

****

“What is this?” Lori’s whisper is faint and choked, but it’s all it takes and everything comes to an abrupt halt, freezes.

Rick and Shane separate and the three of them just stare, their eyes locked upon each other.

It’s the middle of the July, outside everything swelters in Atlanta heat, the sweet sound of children laughing and playing in the front yard is still dimly present, but the room suddenly feels like the Arctic Pole.

For a moment array of emotions is mixed on Lori’s face into something indescribable. Then disgust and hurt become evident and painful to watch. Slowly another emotion prevails – the anger.

She opens her mouth as if to say something more, then stops as her gaze roams and settles on the not too subtle outline of Rick’s hard on.

Her fingers twitch at her side. In a couple of long strides she’s next to Rick, her hand cuts the air as she half punches, half slaps him.

The little diamond on her engagement ring slides across his cheek and cuts the delicate skin under his right eye. The sudden burn and the shock, more that the actual impact make him topple gracelessly to the side and land on his ass. On the way down his arm crushes one of the unwrapped presents left on the couch and something fragile inside the box breaks, little pieces of plastic rattle (Rick thinks distantly that " _Carl won’t be happy_ ").

Lori doesn’t even look at him, gives Shane a disgusted once over, her eyes burning him with hate, and storms out of the room.

“Fucking hell” Rick hisses and presses his hand to his bleeding face trying not to ruin Lori’s pristine couch cushions with droplets of red.

“Get the hell out Shane”, another hiss.

Shane makes no move just looks at him, suddenly feeling cold and spaced out, the adrenaline wearing off.

“Fuck you Rick” he says flatly .

“Yeah…” Rick answers with something that could be taken as sarcasm but Shane can’t be sure, can’t see his face. Rick’s head is bowed as if in shame, half of his face hidden behind fingers getting sticky with blood.

*****

Rick gets up stiffly and stumbles towards the bathroom, his still half erected cock uncomfortable, shameful friction inside of his pants.

He needs to talk to his wife…he needs…he needs peroxide.

“Honey?” he calls. Stupid and meek.

His own voice makes him cringe.

*****

Shane stomps off trough the living room, the short hall and towards the back door, his mind ridden with the thought that he hadn’t said goodbye to Carl.

Just before he steps into backyard he vaguely hears Rick's voice calling Lori’s name. Apologizing maybe.

“Good luck” Shane thinks viciously and spits.

Spits out the hurt, the betrayal, the anger. The taste of Rick.

*****

Lori locks the bathroom from inside and with trembling fingers rummages through her makeup stash, till she finds what she’s looking for. A rumpled pack of smokes. Menthol ones. She’s not particularly fond of the taste, but the smell is easier to air out than of the regular ones.

She takes a drag and starts to cough as her throat closes painfully.

Tears and smoke sting her eyes as she stares onto her disheveled reflection in the mirror.

The picture plays in her mind over and over again. Her husband and his best friend obscenely entwined together in their living room, kissing like there was no tomorrow.

Lori feels warm pull in her abdomen. “Fuck” she curses under her breath “ _on top of all this I’m getting my period_ ”.

She takes the tampon and bunches the hem of her summer dress angrily as she shoves her panties down.

But she finds no crimson stain, only a sheer wetness of arousal.

And she stares at it uncomprehending.


End file.
